


Silent but Loving

by Jak_the_ATAT



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Adler doesn't deserve the shit I give him, Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, mute!Bell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jak_the_ATAT/pseuds/Jak_the_ATAT
Summary: BOCW spoilers!Summary inside.This is probably the last fic I will say the spoiler tag since the game has been out for almost a month. Just a heads up.
Relationships: Russell Adler/Bell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Silent but Loving

**Author's Note:**

> Drinking allows Adler to see the people he's killed. Tonight, he's not just seeing a victim of his actions. He's also seeing the one man who changed his world.

He's not a heavy drinker anymore. But when he does drink, it's an absolute adventure. He's allowed to talk with the people he's killed. He can argue, laugh, cry (on extremely rare occasions), and discuss with them until they feel some closure. Less guilt for him. Less hatred for his victim.

Tonight seems like a good time to escape reality with a few shots. After all, he has a flight to catch tomorrow. Makes perfect sense.

And so, Adler lingers around the Arkhangelsk safe house, waiting for Park to finish packing her things. With the Fall of Solovetsky over and Perseus is dead, Adler has no more loose ends to tie. The ones he didn't tie were Hudson's problem, and those all involved cleaning out Greenlight from Europe.

Park approaches him. "Have you finished packing?"

"Yeah."

"Shall we head out for the night?"

"You go ahead. I'm going to do a second sweep around. Make sure nothing's left behind."

"I'll see you bright and early, then." She smiles before leaving, but not before she double checked the door was shut all the way to keep the bitter wind out.

Once she's gone, Adler digs out the liquor he bought yesterday. Part of him is curious what makes Russian liquor so special and he wants to take his time savoring every sip. The other part is impatient to drink until he can see Bell again.

Bell...

Adler pops open the first bottle and takes a few sips, admiring the rough burn against his throat. If Bell were here, he'd be begging for Adler to let him have a sip, then finish the bottle and proceed to outdrink Adler's entire team with no signs of intoxication.

Just thinking back to their drinking competition makes Adler chuckle as his eyes start to hurt and his nose tingle. He misses Bell's vibrancy. Asides from beating everyone in drinking, the Soviet was a sure shot, a good cryptographer, and an ideal friend. He had an odd sense of humor but one that made hunting Perseus a little less exhausting and each day worth living a little longer.

He was also a good kisser...

But only Adler knows that.

Adler drinks more to rid the memory.

A bottle and a half later, the first signs of euphoria set in. Whatever logical side of his brain remained finally quiets. Adler sets two stools at the one research desk in the middle of the room and sits down, his body coordination starting to slow. Another few sips and Bell appears on the other stool, his figure quite translucent. Nothing that finishing off the bottle couldn't fix.

Bell smiles and raises his hands. _"Hello, Russell,"_ he signs in ASL, which he picked up from Adler's Vietnam memories.

 _"Hey,"_ Adler signs back.

_"Thought you might wait another day before you reached out."_

_"I was lonely. And I missed you a little."_

Bell's eyes flutter about, searching for something to cover up his bashfulness. Adler leaves Bell briefly and grabs the bottles of liquor, setting them on the table. He picks a bottle at random and opens it, then holds the bottle out. "Hey kid, you want some?"

Bell nods. _"I still think it's funny you call me kid even though I'm only two years younger than you."_

"Old habits die hard."

The comment lights up Bell's face as he takes the bottle and downs a few light sips before handing it back. _"You chose the good stuff."_

"You know I don't got anything below high quality."

The two share a smile. However, Adler's pleasure is interrupted by a nagging thought in the back of his head. He drinks, wanting it to go away. And yet, it won't. So he says it anyway. "I'm sorry we couldn't reconstruct your throat correctly so you could speak."

Bell shakes his head. _"It's almost been for the better. Without it, others would have heard our conversations and judged us for falling in love."_

"You're fucking lucky you survived that shot to even get to know each other."

 _"I'm just glad Arash is a horrific shot. He was aiming for my chest and somehow missed. Don't ask me how."_ Bell scoffs as his image flickers. Adler drains the rest of the bottle and Bell's back to normal. _"If Arash is in Heaven with me, I'll be kicking his ass multiple times."_

"Save me a punch for when I join you."

A noise escapes Bell's throat before he breaks into a laugh. For a moment, Adler panics, expecting a coughing fit to follow up. But nothing happens. And it takes only seconds for Adler to realize Bell's laugh has changed. It's not that raspy, demonic sound that sometimes causes him to spit up blood. It's an actual laugh. And it's beautiful.

Adler gladly drinks to that, stopping only to rub Bell's back when Bell finally chokes on himself.

Their eyes lock. In the dying light of the lone candle across the room, Bell's youth comes into full view, the creases on his cheeks and under his eyes no longer as prominent. The light illuminates Bell's eyes, highlighting the twinkle at the corners. Whatever burdens the kid had been hanging on to when he was alive no longer exist.

Adler can't explain it: the eyes which could kill with a single glare are the same eyes that sends his heart somersaulting in a way he doesn't even know how to deal with. This isn't the way he felt with his ex-wife 28 years ago. No, it's so much worse and yet so satisfying.

He finishes off the liquor and opens another, which he sets on the table so he can sign. _"When did your throat get fixed?"_ To his slight dismay, Bell takes advantage of the unguarded bottle and steals a swig, mischief in his eyes (of course, the second he puts it down to answer the question, Adler does the same).

 _"Benefits of Heaven,"_ Bell signs. _"I don't remember how to use it, though. Or at least I can't speak yet because it hurts too much to talk."_

"Huh. So Heaven is an actual spot," Adler muses. "Must be nice up there."

Bell shrugs. _"It's okay. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with it. But I'd be happier if you were with me."_

"Me?" Adler scoffed. "Thought you would hate me for killing you."

_"I'm here now, aren't I? I think that would say otherwise._

"I guess..." The lightheartedness leaves Adler and he empties the bottle. He can still see the wound from the bullet between Bell's eyes. "I still should have just said 'fuck it, Hudson,' and let you go."

Bell is already on top of opening another bottle. _"You didn't have much of a choice. Besides, the CIA would have hunted me down for research purposes if I was still alive. I saw the file. I'm one of the most successful MK-Ultra subjects."_

The two fall silent and Adler runs back their conversation in his head, worried he may have said something to offend the Soviet. What he doesn't expect is for Bell to hug him. Nor how much he needed the hug. Adler pulls Bell tight against his chest, letting the Soviet pet his hair and coax his head into the crook of the younger man's neck.

God, he hates himself. They could have had this. They could have so much more than this...

Bell hums and pats Adler's shoulder before pulling away. _"Do you want to come for a walk with me?"_

"I don't know... I'm not really supposed to do anything that could kill me."

 _"Won't be long. I'll keep you safe."_ Bell cups Adler's cheeks and the two press their foreheads together briefly before parting on Bell's request so he can talk. _"You can even finish your drink before we go. But only if I get a sip."_

"Alright." Adler drinks until the bottle has one sip left, then hands it to Bell, who realizes too late that there's practically nothing left. Bell curls his fingers and sticks his thumb between his first and second finger. Adler reciprocates with his middle finger.

The Soviet breaks their hand gesture showdown by giggling. The two intertwine fingers and give each other's hand a squeeze before walking towards the safe house's door and heading down the cliff to the sea as the first hints of sunlight poked through the sky.

* * *

When Park arrives at the safe house to meet with Adler early the next morning, she doesn't have a good feeling. Something about the appearance of the safe house sends uneasiness through every fiber of her body. And so she draws her pistol and pushes the door open.

She nearly passes out. The smell of booze twists her stomach and she wants to throw up. Maybe she'd give up drinking after today.

She's welcomed by a disturbing sight. Five large empty bottles scattered about the one table in the room. On the floor slumped against one of the stools is Adler, a small smile on his face and another bottle in his hand.

"Bloody hell," she mutters, holstering her pistol and making her way over. "And we have a flight today..." She takes the bottle from his hand and checks it, seeing only one sip left. "Adler, wake up!" Park kicks him then busies herself with gathering the bottles. She stacks them in the back of the room, hoping whoever uses the safe house next will take out the trash for her. She'd do it, except they are driving straight to the airport from here.

And Adler is still asleep.

Park storms over and kneels down. "Adler!" She slaps him across the face.

Her hand recoils upon contact, the uneasiness returning. Adler remains unresponsive as Park begins to notice he looks too pale to be just asleep. "Adler..?" Park puts her hand back down, this time, placing it on his face for a longer period.

Adler's greasy skin is cold to the touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever write something non-angsty? Maybe... we shall see...
> 
> On an unrelated note, I have written Bell and Adler enough times that my autocorrect suggests Bell as a sentence starter and Adler as a sentence ender.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
